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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22369630">Who the World Forgot</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedancingkittykat/pseuds/bluedancingkittykat'>bluedancingkittykat</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>It's getting better in the worst way [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works &amp; Related Fandoms, The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>(He'll get there), Biased Characters POV, Gen, Maeglin deserves better, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, do not copy to another site, relationships and characters to be added</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-01-23</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 12:33:50</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,777</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22369630</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedancingkittykat/pseuds/bluedancingkittykat</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Maeglin was left behind in Nan Elmoth?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aredhel/Eöl (Tolkien)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>It's getting better in the worst way [2]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1610293</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>34</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Who the World Forgot</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Snippets from Awarthion, because while I can't write this verse in complete novel format, I can sure write snippets</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Lómion can’t remember the first time he spoke to his mother. It was probably very sweet, and they have spoken many times since then--a constant in his life until yesterday. He can’t remember the last thing he said to her. He hopes it was “I love you.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She didn’t even say goodbye in person. Instead, it happens like this;</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He awakens before day break, lies in bed for a few moments, pondering what would make him be up so early when his father isn’t home to wake him. He nearly falls back asleep before his body jerks him awake and he shoots up in bed. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <em>
    <span>We’re leaving!!</span>
  </em>
  <span> He beams at no one and leaps out of bed, catching his foot on his sheets before stumbling free towards his wardrobe. There’s a paper on his nightstand. Lómion whips open the doors and begins to dress himself, singing a Quenyan tune. Who’s going to stop him? His father? The servants who went with him? They’re leaving! He’s going to meet his mother’s kin! </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>Lómion pads out barefoot to the kitchen to grab breakfast and decides to do something nice for his mother. She made lembas the day before while he was gathering tools from the forge and as she wiped her hands clean told him that they needed to cool and so she would wrap them the next day. </span>
  <em>
    <span>She has been busy preparing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, he thinks. But it’s the least he can do to help her. But when he enters the kitchen the lembas has clearly already been wrapped, evidenced by the fact that neither the wraps or lembas is present. Lómion shrugs it off. She must’ve woken earlier than him today. She’s probably more excited than him to go--she has been sundered from her kin longer than he has been alive and she actually knows them, not just stories of them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His mother is probably second checking her packing, since neither of them will be returning. </span>
</p><p>
  <span> But since the Lembas has been wrapped and the rest of the food packed last evening, he decides to go to his father’s forge to make sure he too has not forgotten anything. He walks around the forge quickly and sees nothing amiss and nothing forgotten and so he returns inside. Lómion still sees no sign of his mother; maybe she got up early to wrap the Lembas but went back to sleep? Maybe she was too excited to sleep? Lómion very nearly skips to his mothers room and knocks on the door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother!” He greets. The wood echoes hollowly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She could be deeply asleep--she has slept through a tree crashing in the courtyard during a particularly bad storm, so it’s not impossible. He turns the knob to let himself in, only to be greeted by no one. The bed has been made, there is no pack by the door or any sign of having been inhabited the evening before. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Unease settles in his stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He brutally ignores it and goes to his father’s room. She might have gone to fetch something from the bedroom, whatever it may be, and he follows her ghost to the room, throwing it open. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Mother!” He greets again, beaming.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The room has been unslept in since his father had left days ago, and the room reflects that, not a thing out of order. Except for, as he walks the room, Anguirel. She’s not here. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The anxiety returns full force and this time he does not ignore it. He turns on his heel and plows out the doors towards the front entrance calling for his mother all the while. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He does not bother to put his boots on in his hurry rams the doors open, stumbling through them, leaving them open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother!” He calls again. It echoes back mockingly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She has not left yet, he assures himself, why is he panicking?? She will be in the stables and she will laugh at his panic and reassure him that all will be well and will wrap her arms around him but her face will be in his chest, because he has been taller than her for many years now, but he will lean down, no matter how uncomfortable, to hug his mother properly and </span>
  <em>
    <span>all will be well</span>
  </em>
  <span> and, and--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Mother!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>---and nothing. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No one is there to greet him in the stables, it’s only him and his horse. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>It’s fine,</span>
  </em>
  <span> he reassures himself, </span>
  <em>
    <span>she’s only scouting the path</span>
  </em>
  <span>, but it rings hollow when he sees the horse tracks pressed deep into the earth--but no! He presses his hands onto his cheeks and pushes them together, shaking his head. She has not left, she has </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He goes to saddle up I Eneth Gîn, only to find the strap </span>
  <strike>
    <span>sliced</span>
  </strike>
  <span> broken, which yes, it has been a bit since he used the saddle, but he didn’t think it had been long enough to break it, and it’s a good thing he has been practicing his bareback riding skills. But wait. He will need his own pack and supplies, so with a quick pet to I Eneth Gîns nose, he returns to his room to retrieve his pack by his bed and put on socks. It’s when he sits down on the bed to put his socks on his dirty feet--he’s not cleaning them now, not now--that his eyes land on the paper on his nightstand. He pauses in putting the sock on his other foot and slowly settles that foot onto the floor before reaching over to pick up the paper. Though now that it is in his hands, he can see that it has been folded in to an envelope with “Lómion” written in his mothers curly tengwar, but crossed out and replaced with “Maeglin” in hurried tengwar. It sits in his hands for a moment before he can will himself to open it. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
    <strike>
      <span>Lómion</span>
    </strike>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Maeglin” </span>
  </em>
  <span>It reads, his father name crammed above his mother name,<br/>
</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“</span>
    <strike>
      <span>Lómion</span>
    </strike>
    <span>Maeglin,</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>I understand that this is hard for you, but understand this: this is infinitely harder for me. Leaving you behind was not easy. I do not ask you to forgive me but rather to forget me. I will not keep the truth from you, </span>
    <strike>
      <span>Lómion</span>
    </strike>
    <span>Maeglin.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span> It was hard for me to leave you behind, but I do not regret it. No, for if I brought you with me, your father would have followed and back to his cage I would go. If I go to Ondolindë, or to </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Hísilómë,</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> or to any other Noldor kingdom, it is because their cages could not hold me. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>But with <span class="u">you</span>. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>With you, </span>
    <strike>
      <span>Lómion</span>
    </strike>
    <span>Maeglin, Eöl would follow us to the ends of Arda for you alone. But for me, he would follow to the edge of Himlad and that is what I need. I need you to not be my son. You are enough your father’s son that no one will question the absence of a mother. And so, you do not need your </span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span>Amilessë</span>
  </em>
  <em>
    <span> and thus, I ask you to not use it. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>They say that it is the job of the son to sacrifice his happiness for his mother. </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Cordially, </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>High Princess of the Noldor in Exile</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Írissë Íreth Aredhel Ar-Feiniel”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He doesn’t move. Where would he move to? Why would he even move? He has no where to go. He lies on his side facing the nightstand, letter in hand before bringing the rest of himself onto the bed by rolling over.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He faces the wall.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s nothing better to do.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shuts eyes, shuts out his thoughts, his feelings and leaves nothing alive. It’s better this way. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at the wall. It does not stare back. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He is aware of every moment, of the shadows moving across his wall, of how every heartbeat his mother--Aredhel--his mother gets further away and he shuts that thought down. He blinks. He is only spectating this. It’s fine. He’s fine. Nothing bad has happened. The shadows move across his wall, though he does not greet them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He stares at the wall. It does not stare back. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>His stomach growls. It’s fine. He does not need food. Anymore, at least. His bed gives nice hugs, he doesn’t need to leave it. His mother probably doesn’t have a bed. She’s probably in the nearest Noldor kingdom, Himlad, already, meeting </span>
  <strike>
    <span>his</span>
  </strike>
  <span>her kin, so maybe she does. It’s probably an even better bed then she’d ever get with him along--he clears his thoughts forcefully. His bed is nice. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He stares at the wall. It does not stare back.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There are no more shadows on his wall. He tries to think of nothing. It almost works except thinking of nothing is nothing, so he fails at that too, like he’s failing at being a son, because he doesn’t want to sacrifice his happiness, but--</span>
</p><p>
  <span>    But nothing. He slowly closes his eyes and exhales slowly. He is fine. He does not need to think about that. He thinks about nothing. This is nothing, this is exactly where he wants to be. Here. in his bed, thinking about nothing. nothing nothing nothing</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He stares at the wall. It does not stare back.</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>There is noise not coming from him, but he ignores it as he ignores the rising sun. It’s not for him anyway. He closes his eyes. Opens them. He can feel a paper between his hands where they are huddled to his chest. It’s crisp. He will need to be careful to not crumple it, though he doesn’t linger on why for long. The trees again cast a shadow on his wall. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>He stares at the wall. It--</span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Maeglin!” He hears his fathers voice. It jolts him back into his body and into motion. He sits up faster than he has moved in a...day (?) and shoves the letter under his pillow in time for his father to barge into his room. </span>
</p><p>
  
  <span>“Maeglin--! There you are!” Relief flashes over his face before anger returns once more. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where is your mother?” he barks. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maeglin shrugs. He doesn’t want to speak right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I asked you a question!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know,” He snaps. “She left yesterday.” It rings in his ears.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The other ellon lifts his lip in a snear. “I surprised you didn’t go with her.” Maeglins eyes flicker towards his bag before jerking his gaze away. Eöls eyes follow his gaze towards the bag and his jaw clenches. His gaze returns to Maeglin before gruffly saying, “We’re leaving soon.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Maeglin startles for multiple reasons but asks “Where to?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“We’re going to get your mother back.” and he leaves with the door open behind him.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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